


Death's head

by MorganasCrow



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Biopunk, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganasCrow/pseuds/MorganasCrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can never cheat death... but you can make a bargain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death's head

"Their rotted corpses remain when death replaces life."  
\- Cannibal Corpse (When Death Replaces Life)

I entered the room. Two men were standing by the table. One of them - old, small and fat offered me his hand: "John Grueston. This beautiful place belongs to me. Take a seat, Ms Duchaan." I sat into the comfortable leather chair and looked around. Grueston sat in his chair and leaned back. Then he took a box of cigars and offered me one: "St. Miguel oscuro. Canary Islands. Delicious." I reached the box and took a cigar. It smellt really good. I bit the tip off and put it between my lips. He moved towards me with a zippo in his hand and watched me producing the haze of smoke. "Drink?" I nodded and he opened the drawer and took the bottle of Four Roses bourbon. Single barell, six years.  
"So... I heard you would like to make a bargain." I nodded again and raised my case. "I would like to make an artistic project... but I need your help," I uttered, laying the case upon his table. "473 - 569," I told him the code. He opened the case and buried his face into it. It was like if he was snorking that money. "And here is the list," I added and handed him the paper.  
"Edgar Poe... H. P. Lovecraft... Oscar Wilde... Charles Baudelaire... William Faulkner... Rick Wright... Alfred Hitchcock... Jimi Hendrix... H. R. Giger... Salvator Dalí... Allen Ginsberg... to sum it up it's... 40 items." I just nodded. "That makes £ 1.500.000 ." "Yes. 15 packs, each containing 100 thousands." He hastily counted and then nodded. "Do you realize the prize to pay?" I nodded again. Then I turned to the skinny guy.  
"Can I ask you, doctor...???" "I wouldn't mention my name if you won't mind. My clients call me Herbert West." "The reanimator," I agreed. "Well, doctor West... I need some policy this won't go out of hand." "Of course," interrupted Grueston. "There is a policy until death... each death. In case of any unexpected incident the company accepts full responsibility. I will give you a contract." "And them???" I asked again. "Support of the developing countries. We pay with people on the verge of death who can't be saved for our clients. Africa, Asia, South America. Those, who cannot be saved from starvation, poverty and mortal diseases." I nodded. "And them?", I pointed towards the contract. "We will integrate them into today's society and then we will send them to visit you. Then you can do whatever you want with them."  
We shook hands. I didn't care I had just slaughtered 40 poor helpless innocent people. The great writers will come back and help me with the story... Dálí and Giger will take care of the graphic part... musicians will do their best... we'll hire some others from today... their souls will return in different bodies, but it's okay. No one cares of that dying ones. All just thanks to the stem cells research. Yes, it's morally reprehensible. Yes, it's legal. We pay them to bring our beloved back to life. And no one cares about those who don't survive. Their souls will die and their rotted corpses remain... filled with new souls... new minds... The corpses remain when death replaces life.

"And when the dead walk the earth,  
all the living will fill their coffins."  
\- Motionless In White (London In Terror)


End file.
